


Things We Cannot Afford

by Goombella123



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, or bittersweet if ur a zelda/urbosa shipper i guess, zelda is bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12341295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goombella123/pseuds/Goombella123
Summary: “You will know that love for yourself someday, Zelda.” Purah says, suddenly. “Blood doesn’t always count for everything. I believe you’ll find the happiness this boy has eventually. In due time.”And now, Zelda cannot take her gaze from the old woman’s eyes. Her goggles rest on her silver hair, tiny spectacles gleaming with the hidden fruits of experience and wisdom.She says, 'in due time'.





	Things We Cannot Afford

 

 

 

She was twelve years old, when her father called her an adult.

 

Zelda knew she wasn’t quite one. Other girls her age, from what she knew of flower-girls and milkmaids, were still allowed to be children. Zelda was not. Zelda was the princess. She had the burden of destiny to bear, and she walked barefoot not to feel earth under her toes, but to connect her to the holy mother, Hylia.

 

She was twelve when her own earthly mother died, and she was expected to take her place.

 

Her hands were warmer than the goddess’s.

 

A fluent reader by five, Zelda spends her leisure time in the castle library. She reads fact rather than fiction, but she might as well not bother distinguishing the two. For philosophy, what she does not experience may as well be fiction. And Zelda’s fact is all hypothesising and praying, every day, to a godly being.

 

She prefers that which is set in stone, generally. Did you know that some frogs have speed-enhancing properties?

 

“You study, but not the acolytes.”

 

The hawk-eyes of restriction. Her father’s voice echoes the library, and Zelda’s eyes draw upwards to the sound of it. She replies, younger than she feels- “Not today.”, in a small voice. Clear, like shining glass, “It’s a Sunday.”

 

Her father’s crown is heavy, and it makes him prone to sighing.

 

The King is never imposing- never tries to be with Zelda- but his figure is still ominous where she cannot fully see. The air lies stagnant with words he cannot say, and thoughts brewing in the atmosphere since Zelda was six and had discovered the word ‘scholarly’. It talks in his footsteps, like another sigh unvoiced. Another ‘you know I love you, my dear Zelda, but.’

 

He always tries to close the distance, forgetting he was the one to put it there.

 

“Sunday is a holy day.” The King suggests. Not a command. Never a command- it’s a reprimand, and Zelda flinches; with another disappointment falling from her father’s lips.

 

“The goddess would be pleased, were she to see you study all days of the week.”

 

“I do study, father.” Zelda blinks.

 

“But not the acolytes.”

 

He repeats with such fervency, and Zelda wonders what the priests of old knew to be this urgent. Zelda is twelve, and she doesn’t see the problem with what she’s studying already.

 

 Father used to encourage her, once upon a time. Mother praised her, too for what a learned soul she was becoming. But then Mother died, and the goddess came to them with a prophecy. She spoke of Calamity Ganon, and a hero to fell him.

 

Even so young, Zelda begins to resent, with every prayer she has to memorize, that the hero is not she.

 

The thing about learned souls, as it turns out, is that they are not easily lead. Not by their fathers, or by fate.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She is fourteen, and she makes a guardian come to life in a little laboratory.

 

Zelda keeps it secret. By her very _life_ , she keeps it secret- the pains she takes to lie behind her father’s back, to pray one moment to the goddess and to denounce her in the next breath, wear her body and soul into a tempered being. She is well drawn and fed, but she has a singular ambition, like a warrior.

 

No one knows what she knows, and she must keep it that way.

 

The Sheikah, however, find sick pleasure in meddling with her affairs. She supposes they exist for that very reason. At least, for what the listen for and hear, the ninja tribe cannot do anything to stop her. They are sworn to Zelda’s aide, not her father’s.

 

They cannot lie, but they are under no obligation to tell him anything.

 

It is her luck that Purah is among them.

 

The woman is shorter than Zelda- shorter than a child- but the lines of her eyes and her large, red spectacles betray her age. Her enthusiasm, however, is youthful. Unlike her sister, Impa, her love lies in technology. After Impa imparts knowledge on days of the sky and goddess-training, Purah lets Zelda tinker in robotics by the night. It is by her watchful eyes that Zelda gave a guardian movement.

 

She’s elated to say that Purah had been proud.

 

“Was the goddess happy to see you today?” Purah grins, as Zelda enters her lab.

 

Initially- within their first, secret meetings- Zelda did not take that statement for a joke. She’d give Purah a look, and frown something upon the lines of “She does not talk”, and say it seriously. Or scowl and mumble, “the divine mother shows no bias among her beings.”

 

Zelda is not good with nuance, apparently.

 

But she learns more with Purah here than she ever does with Impa. Purah had begun to ask that same every time Zelda visits, and her response evolves as she comes to understand more of everyday conversation.

 

“So?” Purah smiles today. “The goddess?”

 

Zelda closes the door, never lingering from the handle.

 

“Positively jovial.” She smirks. “A fair jester, she is. I know something about her that not even Impa does.”

 

“Oh?” Purah taps her lip. “A secret?”

 

Zelda grins.

 

“She hates vegetables.”

 

Purah’s eyes are like star shine, when they crinkle in happiness. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she winks, “for the next she visits for dinner.”

 

They laugh, at the amusing scene.

 

“She hates walking naked through freezing waterfalls, too.” Zelda points out with a shiver. Purah chuckles, sympathetic to Zelda’s plight.

 

“Well, she’s in luck.” she taps her button-nose. “We’ve no waterfalls in here. Just machines.”

 

A breath of a chuckle, and Zelda relaxes.

 

“Just what I like to hear.” she whispers. “Bless you.”

 

“My honor.” Purah smiles.

 

She does more than playfully mock Zelda’s much resented holy status, to the princess’s utter delight. Purah, the Royal Scientist, is like the mother Zelda lost.

 

Or maybe more accurately, she is her only true, trusted friend.

 

Sheikah oaths or otherwise.

 

“So… how fares our correspondents from the Gerudo region?” Zelda asks her.

 

She takes a seat on a cushioned chair, to observe Purah’s work. Just observe. Watch, as she tinkers, and snorts with the crank of a wrench at her remark. “Terribly boring.” Purah tells her. “They have no appreciation for the work that we do here, my girl. They are dar too concerned with their traditions.”

 

A more polite speaker would add ‘in my humble opinion’, but Purah is nothing of the sort. Zelda rolls her eyes at her.

 

“Their dedication to their culture should be admired.” she says, amicably.

 

“…Come now.” Purah laughs. “Both of us know you care not for that sort of thing.”

 

Zelda laughs, too. She is right.

 

“Adherence to tradition and conventional morality hinders scientific progress.” Zelda chirps. “Though it is unkind of me to say so. I must keep an impartial face, for the sake of politics.”

 

“Not in front of me you don’t.” Purah grins at her. “A boy came to see me today.”

 

Zelda tilts her head, for the change of topic.

 

“…A boy?”

 

Purah nods, eager to tell her story. “To obtain a fishing device, he did. He currently lives with the Zora, and he feels himself a burden for not being able to hunt in the way they do with spears.”

 

Zelda’s eyes widen at that.

 

“How peculiar.” she gasps. “A hylian, did you say?”

 

“I did not say, but he was indeed.” Purah chuckles. “More curious, though, was how he spoke of their Champion, Mipha.”

 

The Zora Princess, and an occasional pen-pal of Zelda’s. She was older than her, but timid and frightful. “Unusual for him to mention her at all.” she mumbles.

 

“The boy called her his sister.” Purah hums.

 

Zelda’s entire being freezes.

 

“…Sister?” Zelda says, slowly. “Not biologically, I hope? Do not tell me you were visited by a Prince.”

 

Purah chuckles, waving her wrench around dismissively. “No, no, of course not. He was a strange boy, but he wasn’t a fish.”

 

Her comment makes Zelda laugh, tension escaping from her shoulders.

 

“I suppose he would not have a hunting problem then, could he swim.” she sighs. “Tell me more about him.”

 

Ah, she forgot her manners there. But Purah does not give a fig.

“He wasn’t very talkative,” she smiles. “But once I got him on the topic of family, he practically gushed with affection. I asked him about the Crown Prince, and he blushed like a fire was lit within him. ”

 

“O-oh.”  Zelda says.

 

“It was very amusing.” Purah croons. “He cares a lot for these people, and it was obvious they cared a lot for him.”

 

Zelda blinks at that, not knowing what to say.

 

Instead, she looks down. Eyes drawn to her fiddling thumbs.

 

“…Zelda?” Purah asks.

 

“Is that- are most people like that?” Zelda blurts.

 

Purah glances at the Princess, standing up on her tippy-toes to look at her directly.

 

“Like what?” she asks.

 

“With their families.” Zelda clarifies. “Gushing with affection, as you put it.”

 

Something... complicated crosses Purah’s face.

 

“…No.” she says. “But that’s part of what made this boy so memorable. It sounded like he had a lot of love around him, and in turn, had just as much to give.”

 

“I… I see.” Zelda bites her lip. She still keeps her gaze trained to her thumbs, locked together as if they were impossible to part, even though it was her forcing them that way,

 

“You will know that love for yourself someday, Zelda.” Purah says, suddenly.

 

Zelda flicks her gaze upwards.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Blood doesn’t always count for everything. I believe you’ll find the happiness this boy has eventually. In due time.”

 

And now, Zelda cannot take her gaze from the old woman’s eyes. Her goggles rest on her silver hair, tiny spectacles gleaming with the hidden fruits of experience and wisdom. She says, ‘in due time’, Zelda will find love.

 

Maybe she’d found a little in Purah’s mentoring, but she’s sure the woman knows that already.

 

“Thank you.” 

 

Love aside, the conversation is left to die as Purah continues work on an ancient machine. The clinks and clangs she creates are music no art could seek to replicate- no culture could ever treasure the way Zelda treasures it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She is fifteen when she is kissed.

 

Zelda becomes deeply intimate with another fascination inside her, beyond study and machinery- a fascination to do with how people could bend so easily to her will, how the flower-girls and milkmaids she so envied for their nativity would go weak-kneed and pliant in her adult presence.

 

She discovers that she can kiss them, and they will fall blissfully into her.

 

Zelda doesn’t begrudge them for it. She’s known for a long time the power she holds, and accepting that it extends to interpersonal relationships is not difficult. It isn’t surprising that bright-eyed and hopeful children would gasp at their goddess’s kiss, but…

 

She does wish that they could return the favour.

 

Zelda’s father dislikes the idea of lovers and suitors, but he brings them up to her over candle-lit dinner, one night.

 

“I will not force you to marry.” he says, tentatively. “However… the people grow restless, and it would be beneficial to our economy for you to establish a relationship with a nobleman’s son, or some other Prince.”

 

Zelda chews around her food thoughtfully, fork in one hand, knife in the other.

 

“Do you think it would effect my acolyte training, father?” she asks.

 

The King shakes his head, sighing. “Most likely.” he says.

 

Zelda tries not to beam at him openly.

 

Tries. She takes a roll of bread- with her hands, without thinking- and shoves it in her mouth, to quell her smirk and giddy feeling.

 

“In that case,” she says, “I will ask Impa to assemble my courtiers at once.”

 

 

 

 

 The next day, Zelda finds a line of men, all waiting for her in the throne room with gifts of dowry and flowers. She grins, genuinely pleased with herself, and maybe- maybe- a little drunk with power.

 

“Good evening, gentlemen.” she croons. “It is fabulous to see you.”

 

The men reply, with some variation of ‘Good evening, Princess Zelda’, scrambling over each other to be heard.

 

Zelda giggles.

 

She’s aware of Impa ambling up beside her, a walking stick bearing the sign of the sheikah gesturing at the men in front of her.

  
“I assembled them, as you requested.” she says.

 

“As I can see.” Zelda smiles. They are mostly hylian, mostly blushing, and mostly young and foolish. Even in her glorious state, Zelda feels the need to compliment them genuinely. “You all look very charming.” she beams. “Whoever has any one of you, bar myself, should count themselves lucky.”

 

There’s a murmur among the men, as several of their flushes grow brighter.

 

“We encountered an… unexpected situation, though.” Impa interrupts, hesitating at Zelda’s sleeve. Zelda turns to her, confused.

 

“Whatever do you mean?” she frowns.

 

Suddenly, there is a banging at the throne room door. The row of bashful men flinch and whimper, on high alert. A voice yells to the oaken doors;

 

“I am Urbosa of the Gerudo, and I DEMAND a suitor’s audience with Princess Zelda!”

 

“…That,” Impa winces, her voice gravelly with age, “is our unexpected situation.”

 

 

 

 

 Urbosa, as it turns out, is absolutely delightful.

 

 

 

 Zelda rejects every single man who lined up for her that day, and ends up on a pillow-spread in the guest quarters with the woman instead. She has a servant bring her and Urbosa wine and food, though it’s for hospitality more than anything. The Gerudo girl takes up Zelda’s interest more than drinks and nibbles.

 

“I understand why they turned me away.” Urbosa sighs heavily, swirling her cup. “But I still think I deserved a fighting chance.”

 

Zelda nods, absent- she could listen to her talk forever. Urbosa’s voice is low for someone their age, but it’s worn smooth by the sand in her lungs. A treat to the ears.

 

“It is well known that the Gerudo are a female-only race.” Zelda asks. “Is there a reason for that?”

 

She sips at her own wine- it is mild, and not particularly intoxicating, but pleasantly warm all the same. Just like her guest, she supposes.

 

“Voe are… unnecessary in our society, it would seem.” Urbosa smirks, knowingly. “One is born per generation, usually, and in the old texts the male would become our ruler.”

 

“Blegh. I dislike that idea greatly.”

 

“As did my forbearers, Princess.” Urbosa laughs. “I must confess, find your honesty refreshing- for a Hylian.”

 

“I find _you_ refreshing in general.” Zelda blurts. “Those men by my father’s throne room would kiss at my feet, should I do so little as _imply_ I might find it satisfying.”

 

Urbosa snorts. “Kinky.”

 

“Furthermore!” Zelda continues, with a squeak in her voice. “The _other_ sorts of girls who have approached me do not have _half_ the spine that you do, Lady Urbosa. You- you could do all manner of things to me very easily.”

 

Urbosa arches a brow, there. Her mind must be wandering to some risqué places. “All manner of things…”

 

Repeated back like that, Zelda hides her face in her hands.

 

“N-nothing so base!” she yells. “Do not misunderstand me! I am- I have not yet gone below the waist, be it with a man or a woman!”

 

“I see.” Urbosa chuckles, sipping her wine again with mirth and humour. “I can understand now why you mind my gender in the least.”

 

Zelda lowers her hands at her admission- _she does not mind?_ \- and mirrors her actions, to calm her flaming face.

 

“As I… as I hope the same for you.” she says.

 

“…Oh, yes. Indeed.” Urbosa purrs. “I could prove it to you?”

 

Zelda chokes, then- spitting her wine back into her cup.

 

 

 

 Zelda spends three weeks with Urbosa, for the trip back to the Gerudo desert is a long, arduous one, not undertaken lightly. Urbosa assures her that she will miss her while she is gone, and Zelda- for once in her life- truly believes her. She doesn’t think she has found a suitor in the woman, but she has found a close friend her age. A very close friend- the closest she’s ever had.

 

Purah would be proud of her.  

 

Although Zelda supposes that ‘close friends’ do not… exactly... wrap up in each other’s arms, and proclaim how they would marry each other if they could.

 

“I… have a duty to my people.” Urbosa says, with a sad, regretful smile. “And I do not think your father would enjoy having anyone distract you from your studies, let alone a Vai.”

 

Zelda _wants_ to silence her. Boldly, but she opts for a more timid approach, where she pushes her face into Urbosa’s neck like a kitten. At the same time, the Gerudo’s woman’s arms come around her waist.

 

It’s a second’s bliss.

 

“I could make an excuse.” Zelda murmurs to her skin. She wants to hold onto this. “Our marriage would strengthen relations between our people phenomenally.”

 

“That _was_ my initial thinking.” Urbosa chuckles. “But…”

 

But.

 

“I did not come here with approval. My mother set a destiny for me already, and in coming here, I… ran from it.”

 

Zelda’s heart sinks at the all-too-familiar story.

 

“I am the Gerudo’s princess. But I am also her Champion. I have-“

 

“-a duty to the goddess, and to the princess she inhabits.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

Zelda grimaces, squeezing her eyes tight. She feels Urbosa’s hand come to her hair, the same moment she feels something inside her crack.

 

In other words, she tries not to cry.

 

“I… I do not begrudge you.” she swallows, like she’s said to all her unimportant lovers in the past. “I- I support… your decision.”

 

“…Even though it is not what you want.” Urbosa murmurs.

 

Zelda holds her tighter.

 

“I want _someone_.” she chokes. “Someone- it doesn’t have to be you. I don’t know what I want them to do, or to be for me, but I do. I want somebody. Anybody. I’m sick of b-being _alone_.”

 

Urbosa nods, her hand idly raking through Zelda’s hair.

 

“A vague feeling, but one I understand.” she hums, quietly thinking. “I believe… we found each other for a reason, Princess.”

 

Zelda nods.

 

“Even if that reason is not as lovers.”

 

Her voice trails off. And, finally- Zelda lets herself sob.

 

She cries, her heart reaching out for anything- the closest person available, man, woman, she doesn’t care- _she wants to be loved_ , in a way Urbosa cannot give her forever, in a way her father never provided. She cries, not knowing why she’s crying.

 

“Y-you are my f-friend.” Zelda warbles. Her grip is tight, her arms shaking, her body reacting without her consent to things she doesn’t _get_. “You are my friend. I am not in love with you.”

 

“Nor I with you.” Urbosa agrees sombrely. “Though you are charming and beautiful, and very attractive, it is not love.”

 

“So why am I _upset_?” Zelda screams.

 

Urbosa’s hand comes to a faltering halt.

 

Like she’s unsure what to say, or to gather up her thoughts. The girl’s unusual hesitance makes Princess Zelda pause, too, as she tilts her face upwards, face full of her blue, coloured lips.

 

“I think… for me, at least, it’s because this is goodbye. A kind of goodbye, to- something.” Urbosa says.

 

She has a faraway look in her eyes, and a sigh on her lips that goes unvoiced, when she frowns.

 

“I am mourning a love that hasn’t happened, for the sheer reason that it cannot. You, Princess... I feel you mourn love’s existence entirely.”

 

“It is foolish.” Zelda spits, her cheeks stained with tear-tracks of silver. “This whole thing- _feelings_ \- they are for fools!”

 

“It does feel that way, huh?” Urbosa cracks a small, sad smile.

 

“I want nothing to do with them any longer.” Zelda sniffs.

 

Urbosa’s hand resumes in her hair- head pressed to her chest, Zelda can hear her breath, under her heartbeat, laughing.

 

“Were it that simple, Princess.” Urbosa smiles. “I wish I had your conviction.”

 

 

 

 

 She is fifteen when she is kissed.

 

At the sight of Urbosa’s mount in the stable, the next morning, Zelda is overcome with a feeling that makes her heart dissolve in the worst possible kind of way. Like something is being forcibly ripped from her by fate- what did Urbosa say?  


_‘I mourn a love that hasn’t happened, for the sheer reason that it cannot’._

 

“I’m… sorry.” she murmurs.

 

Zelda studies her, not bothering to school her face into something cold. Urbosa has seen the worst of her- no point keeping up a godly pretence, as she has with her past lovers.

 

“Do not apologize.” she says.

 

Urbosa smiles.

 

The morning is oddly chilly for Hyrule proper, and Zelda almost jokes that the cold is what’s making her leave today. But it would be callous. So she does not.

 

The Gerudo checks the bridle of her horse one last time, the animal laughably looking like a pony compared to her height and build.

 

They still have time together, but not much.

 

“I think… we will find other people, eventually,” Urbosa says, hesitant. “And it will be for the best. But-“

 

But?

 

“For now, I…”

 

She turns to look at Zelda- the Princess, gasps, hopeful, wishing Urbosa would _say something_.

 

“…I just think it a shame, is all.” she- eventually- says.

 

Zelda mentality licks her lips.

 

 “How so?”

 

Her answer is a kiss- a hand sliding behind her neck, though the contact is brief and burning.

 

“…That.” Urbosa breathes. “You are _gorgeous_ , Zelda. I am deeply regretful that I did not think to do that sooner in our friendship.”

 

“The do it more. We have time.” Zelda blurts, consequences be damned. “We have time enough.”

 

Urbosa kisses her again, desperate, implying deeper, deeper things into Zelda’s mouth- the Gerudo’s hands sliding from her neck to her breast and to-

 

Oh. Oh.

 

“We will _do_ more.” Urbosa groans. “Please, Princess, if you’ll allow-”

 

The girl’s hand now wanders to her thighs, despite not having permission- and Zelda welcomes that with a gasp.

 

“Do not let me be in charge.” Zelda whispers. “I must- chambers, now.”

 

“You say you are not in charge, and yet.” Urbosa giggles. “What say you- my submissive princess- that you have us do, while you’re so busy not ordering me around?”

 

Zelda’s eyes hold a storm, and her hands tug firm at Urbosa’s waist- pulling them flush and needy.

 

“You will do… all manner of things to me, very easily.” Zelda says. “And that is an order. I… order you to control me.”

 

So she does. And she starts by lifting Zelda off her feet, into a bridal-style carry- alternating between giggles and growls the entire way back to her room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He is a boy of eighteen.

 

 

Just a tad older than Zelda, he stands in front of her, gazes upon her gaunt, shadowed face- and with a brief look of fear, he kneels.

 

“He is Link.” the King says, grabbing Zelda’s attention. “He is to be your personal guard, while he is apprenticed to the Royal Captain.”

 

Zelda looks back to the boy.

 

“He is scrawny.” she says, unimpressed- and at her voice, the boy looks up.

 

Up, up, deep into her eyes, as his own glow a brilliant, arresting blue. Zelda almost regrets her scowl, as his pretty face falls. It is not his fault that she is mas- her father and her fate is to blame- but she doesn’t care enough to let him know that fact.  


“ _Zelda_.” The King admonishes. “Do not be unpleasant to him.”

 

“I will be as unpleasant as I like.” Zelda snips, suddenly. “I am the Princess, and I do not need a nursemaid, or a watcher.”

 

The boy’s brow crinkles, but he says nothing at the insult.

 

_Odd._

 

“There will be _no_ arguments.”  The King says. “Whether it’s machines or… or _feral desert women_ , you seem to find no shortage of unholy things to distract you from you training. It ends today.”

 

“And I suppose this _child_ will prevent my 'distractions', yes?” Zelda sneers. "Very well, father. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

 

To his credit, not once does said ‘child’ flinch. 

 

The King sighs, but does not argue back.

 

"If you’ll excuse me, daughter," he says instead. "I must now depart.”  


 

 

Zelda tries not to curse at his back as he leaves. Or curse at the goddess, again, for the millionth time in her seventeen years.

 

A cough.

 

"Hm?"

 

It is the boy. He is staring at Zelda, and he's still kneeling.

 

"...What do you want?" she spits.

 

He blinks- and he stands. He faces her, eye contact fully maintained, and he sticks his hand out, for her to shake.

 

"...No." Zelda says. "You heard father. I cannot touch _ferals_."

 

Again, he doesn't seem to be phased, saying absolutely nothing. He drops his hand- shrugs, while he's at it, with a neutral look on his face- and oddly, begins to walk away.

 

"Wh-where are you going?!"

 

He stops. Zelda feels her skin boil, beginning to bluster. He's frustrating.

 

"You cannot just wander where you please! You're supposed to take orders, and listen to me, and-"

 

"I thought you didn't want me?" 

 

She blinks.

 

She... doesn't have an answer to that.

 

"Who the hell _are_ you?" she whispers harshly.

 

The boy grins. He makes a motion with his hands- symbols, she realizes, forming words, as he mimes an empty stomach.

 

_I'm hungry!_

 

Zelda blinks again.

 

"...Hi hungry." she says, weakly. "I'm Zelda."

 

 

 

The boy laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs- more laughter and joy than Zelda's ever had in her entire lifetime.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: this fic was written before Urbosa’s age/relation to Zelda’s mother was revealed.
> 
>  
> 
> this is my first finished one-shot in literally forever jfc
> 
> i wanted practice with old fashioned style speaking and also kinda venting abt how i feel about relationships rn i guess???? maybe??? fuck. i relate a lot to botw zelda so it made projecting really easy :P
> 
> in my head shes bi and autistic and eventually falls in love with her soulmate, Link The Idiot Asshole
> 
> thanks for reading


End file.
